


Contraband

by RobinPlaysTrumpet15



Series: Obi-Wan "The Therapist" Kenobi and How He Changed Everything [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Candy, Comfort Food, Contraband, Cute, Fluff, Food, Gen, the clones have underground trading rings, the clones love food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinPlaysTrumpet15/pseuds/RobinPlaysTrumpet15
Summary: When the COs aren't looking, the 212th has a contraband trading ring. It's not what you would think it is.
Series: Obi-Wan "The Therapist" Kenobi and How He Changed Everything [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584874
Comments: 32
Kudos: 748





	Contraband

**Author's Note:**

> This particular one did not take long to write, but it has been a nightmare just attempting to figure out the next installments of this series, guys. So I'm sorry for that. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

The 212th Attack Battalion was no stranger to going on missions without their general. Anytime the Jedi was tied up in “Jedi business” or involved in a mission away from them or, stars forbid, stuck with the _501st_ , they were left to their own devices. Which was fine. They had Cody and Boil, Leak and Barlex and Birdy. Between all of them, the battalion could absolutely handle itself.

Of course, when the COs weren’t looking, the contraband trading rings went _crazy_.

Now, the men knew to keep it clean. They knew to stay away from the shit that could get them killed. (For the most part, anyway. Cody suspected that that sort of thing just stayed extremely well-hidden.) And in truth, most of it wasn’t exactly _contraband_. Not really, anyway. It was little things, simple pleasures.

Socks that weren’t just black. Fancy caff. Teas. The really expensive paints that nobody really asks the origins of. Books. Fabric. Yarn. Wool. Board games. (There were at _least_ three huge games of Coruscant Monopoly that had been going for over a _year_. The money was no longer kept with the games and could actually be used to pay for other contraband.)

All of that was common.

What was big, though? Oh… That was the food.

All kinds of food. Candy that came from various planets, little snacks and cookies “smuggled” from Coruscant. Different seasonings and spices (no, not _that_ kind of spice). Drink mixes like hot chocolate were especially big and hard to get your hands on. Anything to make the water less boring, honestly.

Cody did know, however, of one especially coveted form of contraband.

_Frozen pre-made meals._

Generally, this wasn’t the kind you could buy in stores. This wasn’t something a family would go to the supermarket for on Coruscant or Naboo and bring home to heat up in the oven. They don’t come from factories, measured out easily with little to no seasoning.

No, these were made by the 212th’s very own cooks.

Chef, Stim, and Ket had to be some of the best cooks in the GAR, along with Leak. Or, at the very least, they were the best the 212th had. And they were honestly a blessing. They cooked what they were required to by the regs because they had to use what they were given. So most meals were incredibly boring, but the cooks did their best.

But when they could cook with fresh ingredients bought or found on the many planets they visited? _Oh_ , a trooper could cry. There seemed to be no limit to what they could make. Stim was especially gifted with sweets. He was once able to make saltwater taffy. It had circled the contraband rings for a week before every piece was either eaten or stored away, safe and hidden from nosy brothers. His cookies were the best, though.

They could be soft or crispy, chocolate, mint, strawberry, caramel. He made so many different kinds, _no one could name them all_. But all of them were delicious.

The nights Chef and his team were able to cook anything they wanted for the cruiser were grounds for celebration, though. And usually, it was because there already was a celebration going on. One of the meals that was incredibly easy to make in bulk and make very well was pasta. The 212th loved their pasta. Chef especially loved to _make_ pasta. Like, actually make it. Not just cook it, but make it from scratch with flour and everything.

Chef, Ket, and Stim kept their _aliit_ well fed as much as often as they possibly could.

Beyond that, the best thing a trooper could get their hands on was an individual or squad-sized frozen meal.

Chef made them at every given possible minute, then froze them and hid them away. Very few people knew that to get your hands on one of these meals, all you really had to do was ask Chef or one of the others very nicely and promise not to give Helix or one of the other medics a hard time. Really, it wasn’t hard to get them and it wasn’t supposed to be.

The problem was that they were so built up in the minds of the troopers that the trading for the meals got to be absolutely _feral_ at times. Cody had once seen a man trade his whole candy stash for a frozen meal. It was then stored away for the next time they were on a long, planet-side campaign. That particular squad had eaten well one night.

It was almost funny, and if Obi-Wan knew about it, he’d probably never let them live it down. Granted, he had to know. The troopers could keep secrets, but not about stuff like this. Besides, their general hardly cared about contraband. As long as they weren’t smoking death sticks or using spice, he couldn’t care less what they kept around the barracks.

Cody decided for the next campaign, “A” Squad would have at least two of those meals. Everyone was sick of field rations. Literally no one wanted to eat them anymore. There’d been too much of them recently and it was just grating on Cody’s nerves.

He didn’t dare try and find any in the trading rings, though. He knew better than that. He’d be robbed blind - lose all the credits he’d managed to accumulate and the Monopoly money he’d been saving. (He really wanted to buy the Senate Rotunda from Boil next week.) Not to mention his own candy stash. It was running a little low and he refused to give any away.

Except… maybe to Obi-Wan. But that was a different story.

So instead, he went right to the source.

There was hardly anyone in the mess in the afternoon, and thankfully, he had a free hour. He made his way casually through the room and up to the serving window that looked into the kitchen.

“Chef!” he called brightly. “You busy?”

“A little bit!” came back the voice of his _vod_. Chef spoke just slightly lower than most _vode_ Cody knew, and with an odd sort of accent. It was interesting to listen to. “Stim’s free though! Talk to him!”

“Permission to enter?” Cody asked, still standing at the window. He knew better than to enter Chef’s kitchen without asking first. It was one of the first things shinies learned when they were brought on the cruiser. If they didn’t listen when they were told the first time, well… they _learned_.

“Come on in, Commander!”

He smiled a little, stepping up to the door and letting himself in.

Stim stepped away from the large sink full of soapy water, drying his hands on his arpon.

“Hey, Commander,” he greeted with a lopsided smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you got any ready-made meals in the freezer?” he asked with a sly sort of grin.

Stim brightened. His voice lilted higher than usual. The man was one of the younger clones to come from Kamino. Supposedly, he’d spent most of his training years in a kitchen, learning to cook, but he still shot with an eagle’s eye on the range.

“Yeah!” he agreed happily, leading Cody over to the walk-in. “We just made some new ones today, you know. You’re lucky. So, what are you looking for?”

“A couple squad-sized for the next mission. We’re set to be planet-side for a week.”

“Oh, yeah,” Stim acknowledged with a little frown. “I wouldn’t want to eat ration bars the whole time either. Any sort of food you want specifically?”

“Got that cheesy chicken and rice casserole?”

Stim grinned, pulling it out.

“Right here. Last one of this batch. You’ll have to pick another one if you still want two.”

Cody hummed to himself. “What did you make today?”

“Bantha steak and gravy, green beans, and mashed potatoes.”

Cody could _cry_.

“That sounds great, Stim.”

“Cool!” the younger trooper exclaimed happily. “You got somewhere you want to keep these, or do you want me to mark ‘em for you?”

Cody thought to himself. He didn’t have the room in the little refrigeration unit in his office, and he didn’t _dare_ bring them back to his barracks and keep them in the unit there.

“Mark them for ‘A’ Squad and I’ll have someone pick them up before we head down if I can’t make it,” he decided.

Stim clicked his tongue with another grin and winked at him.

“You got it, Commander. That all?”

Cody nodded his thanks with a small quirk of his lips.

“Yeah, for today. Thank you, Stim.”

The cook closed the walk-in door and stepped away.

“Of course,” he said, walking Cody back out of the kitchen.

Before he could step out into the mess again, Stim stopped him.

“Oh! Got something for you.” He turned quickly and disappeared into the back prep room. The man was only gone a second before he returned, holding out a small pouch to Cody. “I saved you some.”

Inside were four blue little saltwater taffies.

“Do I owe you anything?” he asked, taking the pouch. He tucked it safely away in an empty spot on his belt.

Stim shook his head with a soft smile.

“Never, sir.”

Cody appreciated that. He did, however, want to give Stim something in return. These homemade candies were precious after all. He reached into a different pocket on his belt, pulling out a little fidget toy he’d won in a bet against Boil the other day. He wasn’t likely to use it, and Stim seemed like he’d love it.

“Here,” he said, plopping the toy into his little brother’s hands.

Stim’s whole expression lit up.

“You’re sure?” he asked, already playing around with the various sliding and clicky bits.

“Of course, _vod’ika_. A toy for some candy. And make sure you keep my food safe.”

Stim snapped to attention, giving an extremely short salute before he dropped it again. He’d never been good at standing still.

“You got it, _ori’vod_!”

Cody turned to leave again, finally making his way back into the mess.

Chef appeared at the serving window when Cody was less than two steps from the door.

“Hang on!” Chef called. “You still got a promise to make, Commander! You take it easy on Helix while you’re planet-side. Got it?”

Cody turned and gave the lead chef a smirk and a little mock salute.

“I promise, Chef. You have my word.”

A trooper’s word was worth even more than _candy_ to any man from the 212th.

Chef harrumphed a little acknowledgement, then let Cody go, turning back to his cooking.

Cody grinned to himself, heading out of the mess with a spring in his step. Two nights of no ration bars. Oh, what a dream.

Now if only his general wasn’t set to be on a mission with the 501st during their campaign.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story.
> 
> I have a blog for this series! You can [find it here](https://obiwanthetherapistkenobi.tumblr.com/). Come say hi if you'd like!
> 
> If you have any ideas for hobbies, ideas, or activities you'd like to see in this series, please let me know! I love to hear your ideas!


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